Still Alive
by michonneskatana
Summary: A little girl shows up at Hershel's farm in the middle of the night, crying for her mama. Of course Rick sets up a search party immediately and no way was I gettin' left behind...then everything goes to hell. NOTE: some language, description of an impaling. Reader POV
1. Part 1

**Disclaimer:** Property of TWD, etc.

**Summary:** A little girl arrives in the middle of the night at Hershel's farm. Her mother is injured and Rick sets up a search party immediately. Everything is going relatively fine until a slight misstep puts the whole group in danger...most of all you. Reader POV

She came in the night, half dead already.

We'd been crammed into Hershel's house for over a week and some of us slept better knowing we were behind solid walls instead of the thin fabric of a tent. The rest of us still couldn't break the annoying habit of sleeping with one eye open and a weapon at hand or tucked under a pillow.

It must have been close to 1am when shuffling footsteps on the porch sent chaos rippling through the house. I snatched up my rifle from where it lay next to me on the floor in the hall. My bare feet skimmed the cold, wooden floorboards as I moved towards the front of the house where I had heard the footsteps. Daryl passed me as he slipped up the stairs with his crossbow. Rick was silhouetted against the window, pistol at the ready and shoulders rigid with tension. He motioned for me to take watch at the door and I nodded.

I peeked through the slats of the boarded up door but the porch was empty.

"Anything?" Rick whispered.

"No."

He slid past me and into the dining room. He stopped at T-Dog's bulky shadow but moved on when he got the same response. Glenn was at the kitchen door with Maggie covering the window but they gave the same report.

I glanced back to the porch again. Still nothing.  
Wait.

There…barely visible in the shadow of the oak closest to the porch…a little girl in a yellow dress, huddled on the ground.

"Rick," I whispered as loud as I dared. "Over here."

He was at my side in a flash. As he peeked through the slats of the boards, thin bars of moonlight spilled across his face and heightened the concern in the tight line of his jaw. He placed a hand on my shoulder.

"Cover me."

"I could take the shot from here," I said.

"No shooting unless it's absolutely necessary."

As quietly and as quickly as he could, he unlocked the myriad of chains on the door and stepped out. I followed, scanning the porch, the grounds and the fields in the distance for walker activity. Rick paused at the bottom of the stairs, glanced back at me and held out a hand.

"Wait here."

I braced my rifle against my shoulder, finger on the trigger and made sure Rick was always in my peripheral vision as I kept watch. I knew Daryl would probably be at the upstairs window, providing extra cover from a higher vantage point.

Rick crept towards the girl and stopped a good five feet away. She jerked her head up and a sob tore from her throat. My stomach flip-flopped with dread as she began crawling towards him. Fast. Why wasn't he backing up!?

I trained my rifle on her and peered through the scope. The crosshairs lined up right in the middle of her forehead…

Until Rick stepped towards her and I let out a huff of frustration as his white t-shirt filled my scope. Damn him and his selflessness. He held one hand out to me in a staying motion and scooped the girl up with his other arm. As he jogged back to the house, the little girl's crying became more apparent, slightly muffled as she buried her face in his neck.

"Any bites? Scratches?" I asked as I pushed the door open for him.

He shook his head. "No, she's clean. Might've hit her head though, can't tell."

Maggie came into the living room with a pile of blankets in her arms as Rick went to lay the girl out on the couch. He tried to pull away but the girl let out a screech and cried harder as she tightened her thin, dirty arms around his neck.

"It's okay, it's okay," Rick said in soothing tones. "You're safe here."

The girl's sobs melted to a whimper but she didn't let go.

Hershel padded into the living room then and Rick motioned to the girl in a helpless gesture. Herschel did his best to check her over while she was clinging to Rick. His hands skimmed along the girl's back, over her ribs, along her arms, down her legs.

"She's severely malnourished, her body temperature is dangerously low and there's a pretty deep cut on her head that's gonna need stitches," he said at last. Without a word, Maggie set off to get the medical supplies.

"I'll heat up some food for her," Carol offered.

Rick tried again to lower the girl onto the couch. He peeled her arms away from his neck and she curled into a ball, her face pressed into the cushions.

"Mama…" she cried.

Rick glanced over his shoulder at me. "Did you see anyone else out there?"

I shook my head. "No but I'll go look again."

"Should probably do a sweep," he said. "I'll come with you."

The little girl screamed and grabbed his hand. "No, no, don't leave! Please don't leave!"

Rick settled back on his heels and brushed the girl's hair away from her face. "Okay, alright, I was just going to look for your mama. Do you know where she is?"

The girl hiccupped and her body visibly eased. "At the old house, in the woods."

Rick glanced at Hershel.

"That could be anywhere," Hershel said with a shrug.

"No," the girl said, her voice stronger and more insistent now. "The house with the wind chimes."

"That's the Macy place," Maggie said as she returned with a basket of fresh gauze and antiseptic. "The house was abandoned years ago, practically fallin' down. Wind chimes everywhere. A little creepy if you ask me."

"Why is your mama there?" Rick asked.

"She…she fell. The bad people came and Mama told me to run but she fell and she couldn't get back up. So she told me to get help."

The room fell silent at the unspoken realization that the girl's mother was more than likely beyond any sort of help. Rick smiled at the little girl anyway and cupped her dirty cheek in his hand.

"We'll find your mama for you, alright? But you gotta stay here, you're safe here." Rick reached up, grabbed Lori's hand and gently pulled her down next to him. "This is my wife, Lori. She's going to look after you while I'm out searching for your mama."

The little girl whimpered but nodded and snuggled up against Lori's chest. Rick got to his feet and Lori put a hand on his arm.

"Are you going now? It's the middle of the night."

"If her mother is still alive, there isn't time to wait until morning." He quickly brushed his fingers along her cheek. "I'll be alright," he whispered.

Within minutes, the dining room table was covered with maps and the house was flooded with light. Maggie pointed out where the Macy place was: a good three mile trek through the dark woods. I was less than thrilled at the prospect of wandering around the woods in the middle of the night but I didn't voice my thoughts. I doubted anybody else was thrilled either…

"If she's not there," Rick said as he tucked the map into his back pocket, "we'll head straight back. I don't want to be out there any longer than we have to. This will be a small group, the less noise the better. Shane, you're with me. Daryl, I need your crossbow and your tracking skills. Let's head out."

"I'm coming too," I said.

Rick hesitated.

"What? I'm a good shot."

"I know you are that's why I was thinking you'd stay and guard the house."

"That woman is not going to feel safe being approached by three men in the middle of the night."

He nodded. "Good point. Alright then, you're with Daryl."


	2. Part 2

Ever since the world went to hell, I've found myself trekking into life threatening situations without a backward glance or a second thought. At home, I could barely make myself jump off the high dive without feeling like I was going to puke from the nerves. Now, here I was volunteering to wander off into walker infested woods at two o'clock in the morning.

"Somethin' funny?" Daryl grunted.

"No, not at all," I said.

"Whatever."

"How come none of this bothers you?"

"What?"

"The end of the world."

He shrugged. "Can't change much by worryin'. Just gotta roll with it and do what you can to survive."

The shuffling, dragging footsteps of walkers made us fall silent as we froze in our tracks, listening. I drifted to stand back to back with Daryl before I even realized what I was doing. My eyes gradually adjusted to the darkness and I counted five walkers total, three near Rick and Shane, one for Daryl, one for me.

"Try not to shoot if you can," Rick whispered from a few feet ahead. His white t-shirt seemed to float in the darkness as he jabbed his knife through a walker's brain in one swift, smooth motion.

As my walker got closer, I slung my rifle over my shoulder and slid my knife from the sheath at my hip. No matter how many times I went through the motions, stared death in its hideously ugly face and stabbed it in the brain, my hands still became sweaty and the knife handle grew slippery in my palm. The walker hissed and gurgled as it came closer. It took a swipe at me and I ducked, stepped forward and brought my knife up through its jaw. I held my breath as the rotten body sagged against me and I lowered it to the ground.

Shane did a quick sweep of the area with his flashlight. Two walkers were on a slope to our right but we left them alone. They were far enough away that they wouldn't be a concern.

Rick checked the map then tucked it back into his pocket. "Should be right around here somewhere, according to Maggie."

We fanned out without speaking a word. Whatever our disagreements in camp, we understood each other perfectly once we were being hunted by walkers. Terror, panic, the primal instinct of man to survive pulled us together and we became of one mind, understanding each other's thoughts without the need for words.

Daryl and Shane were more comfortable going farther out on their own than I did. I hung back a little and kept Rick in my line of sight. Since the first time I met Rick in Atlanta, I had developed a certain sense of obligation to watch his back whether he wanted me to or not. It wasn't because he had saved my life countless times, although that did play a big part I have to admit. I'd watched over and over as he went rushing headlong into a fight or to save a total stranger. He was a cop, he knew how to handle dangerous situations…but I still felt better knowing there was someone at his back if…when…he found himself in trouble.

That happened a lot actually…

A gentle, careful whistle pierced the silence. I swung my flashlight in the direction of the sound. Daryl grimaced and raised a hand to shield his eyes.

"Found it," he said and jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. "Looks like it'll blow over with the first strong gust of wind that comes through," he said.

"Any signs of the girl's mother?" Rick asked.

Daryl shrugged. "There's a couple tracks but they're days old. Haven't checked up by the house though, just the trail."

We fell into single file as we slipped through the trees. Daryl led the way, crouched low with the occasional pause to touch the earth and investigate a track. Rick kept close behind Daryl, constantly checking from side to side for walkers. I followed Rick and Shane brought up the rear.

The trail almost disappeared as the trees thickened then abruptly cut off and opened into a clearing. All at once, we broke free of the restricting single file formation and spread out to stand side by side. The house sat dead center of the clearing. Thick vines matted the walls. The windows, devoid of glass, gaped like empty black mouths. Dozens of wind chimes hung on the porch and in the trees and created a soft, eerie tinkling sound.

Four walkers were in the far corner of the clearing and they hadn't noticed us yet but it was only a matter of time. Daryl darted off in a low run, took aim with his crossbow as he dodged between the trees and one walker fell…then two…three…four.

Two more walkers were off to our left. Shane dispatched each one with a quick, precise stab to the eye. Daryl disappeared from view as he crept behind the house then reappeared, crossbow lowered.

"No more of those freaks hangin' around," he said.

"Shane, you're on lookout," Rick said. "We'll take the house."

Rick led the way with Daryl close at his shoulder. The porch creaked and squealed in protest as we stepped onto the worn, warped boards. I felt the floor give beneath my weight a little and I shuffled to the side.

"Watch your step," Rick whispered. "Any soft spots won't hold much weight."

Rick tried the door but it wouldn't give. He jiggled the door knob hard and it fell off in his hands. He flung it to the side in frustration and rammed his shoulder against the door. The house shuddered as the door gave a little.

As Rick continued to work at the door, I glanced around, uneasy at the amount of noise we were making. I could tell Shane was nervous too as his flashlight beam twitched around the clearing.

"Got it," Rick said at last. He slipped inside, swallowed by the shadows. Daryl didn't hesitate and plunged in. I hated this part. Walking into tight quarters was bad enough. I preferred to be in a sniper position where I could pick my target, take my time and line up my shot. Walking into DARK tight quarters was even worse. Might as well be blind folded….

I stepped inside and found myself in a long dark hall. A stairwell stretched up to my right. Daryl was in the small bedroom under the stairwell. Rick came out of the living room off to my left and headed for the stairs. The floor groaned a warning then gave way. Rick caught the bannister with one hand as his right leg disappeared through the floorboards all the way up to his hip. I scrambled forward, wedged one foot against the stairwell and the floor and grabbed his hand.

Daryl came running out of the bedroom and as he started towards us, the floor groaned again.

"Stop!" I yelled.

He froze. "What the hell…?"

"Rotten floorboards," Rick said through gritted teeth.

"Probably can't take much more weight," I said.

"You shouldn't be this close," he told me.

"A little late for that," I said. "And don't tell me to save myself or any of that crap."

He shook his head and gave a small chuckle. My fingers were still clammy from the walker encounter earlier and my grip began to slip. I gripped his forearm with my other hand and started to ease my weight back.

"I don't see anything funny about this," I grunted.

"You're always so damn stubborn."

"I'll take that as a compliment," I said as a little touch of pride popped up. "It's kept me alive this long."

Daryl inched his way towards me, testing each section of the floor before putting his whole weight down. He wrapped his fingers through the back of my belt with one hand and grabbed Rick's arm with the other hand. As we pulled Rick out of the hole, I felt Daryl tugging me back by my belt towards the front of the house where the floor wouldn't give out.

Once Rick was in the clear, I let go and leaned back against the wall, weak with relief.

"Please don't do that again," I said.

"Not plannin' to," Rick said as he lay on the floor a moment, taking deep breaths. He rose to his feet and tried to lean over the railing for a glimpse up the stairs. Only then did I notice the leg of his jeans was torn and damp.

"I think you're bleeding," I said.

He gave the injury a cursory glance. "Probably just a scratch," he said.

He began to inch his way towards the hole again to reach the bottom stair. Daryl and I grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him back.

"We have to check upstairs," he said, barely keeping the indignation out of his voice.

"YOU don't have to though," I said. "I'm lighter than you are so I have a better chance of not falling through the floor."

He hesitated for only a second before nodding but he didn't look too pleased about it. "Alright," he said. "But if there's any trouble, just scream as loud as you can and we'll be right there."

I gave him an impatient look to no effect. He put a hand on my shoulder. "I know you can handle yourself," he said. "All I'm saying is that we're here if you need us."

"We're gonna have to swing you over that hole," Daryl pointed out. "No offense but you're kinda short and that hole'll be difficult to step over."

I nodded. The hole was at least five feet across. In order to jump over it, I would have to be pressed against the opposite side of the hall. If I made it over, I'd have to grab the railing and sort of do some kind of swinging action to pull myself over the hole to land on the stairs.

"What about if I go over the railing?" I asked. The hole took up a quarter of the hall so I'd need a boost to get over the railing.

Rick and Daryl considered a moment. Daryl shrugged.

"Could work," he said. "If you stand on my shoulders."

"Just don't drop me or anything," I said.

Daryl knelt on one knee and I stepped on his shoulder. I grabbed his hands and pulled myself all the way up. He rose to stand, didn't even wobble a little bit as he inched up to the wall of the staircase. The bannister was still a good foot higher than I was even with Daryl's extra height but when I took hold of one of the bars to pull myself up, it cracked and fell off in my hand. I teetered on Daryl's shoulders. His hands wrapped around my ankles in an iron grip but I still felt myself tipping backwards…

Then Rick's hands were on my hips, steadying me. A beat of silence passed as each of us took a breath of relief.

"You good?" Rick asked.

"Yeah," I said but I couldn't keep the slight tremble out of my voice. He still didn't let go even after I got a firmer hold on the railing but part of me was grateful for it.

I yanked all the rotten pieces of the railing away which didn't leave much to climb over. As I wriggled onto the stairs, I felt Rick and Daryl's hands under my feet providing an extra foothold to push off of. Daryl threaded my rifle and flashlight through the broken pieces of railing that remained standing.

As I looked up the long, dark stairwell, I hesitated. I had long ago abandoned the paralysis of fear that used to plague me on a daily basis in this new world of hell but my gut instincts still knew dread and facing those stairs certainly brought on some unpleasant feelings.

Rick reached up and lightly gripped my ankle. "You don't have to do this if you don't want to," he said gently.

"Yes I do. That little girl's mother might be up there and if she is, I'm not going to be the one to leave her just because I felt a little funny about some weird old house. I'll be fine."

He didn't look convinced but I suspected he was trying to get me to chicken out so he could go instead. A little thrill of victory zipped through me. At last, Rick was staying behind, he wasn't rushing headlong into trouble for once.

I tucked the rifle against my shoulder and crept up the stairs. At the top, the hallway split into a T. To the left, the door was closed. To the right, the door was open. Taking each step with caution, I crept towards the open door, rifle at the ready.

I stood just outside the doorway and scanned my flashlight through the room. A pile of blankets in the corner caught my attention. I stared at it. Was there a human hidden under there? Oh god, I didn't want to find out. I wanted to run away, very far away from this creepy house in these creepy woods with these creepy walkers.

But that little girl was crying her eyes out for her mother. I had to find out, for her.

Slowly, I inched into the room, checking left and right first for any surprise walkers. A quick sweep from the beam of my flashlight across the floor showed the left half of the room sagged. I skirted past it and poked the pile of blankets with my rifle.

There was a low moan and something writhed beneath the blankets, something too large for any animal. I took a step back and tightened my grip on my rifle. A petite human hand, gray and stained with dirt, poked out and fingernails clawed into the wood leaving rigid scars in the grain.

I don't know what made me hesitate. I should have just unloaded my gun into the blankets when I saw that hand come out but I didn't. I waited. I wanted to make sure that little girl's mother wasn't a walker. I wanted her to be okay.

I let sentimentality get in the way and I knew better.

The blankets fell away to reveal a female walker. It turned towards me with milky, sightless eyes as it caught a whiff of my living scent and before I could take the shot, it lunged for me. I stumbled backwards and my gun went off. The bullet splintered into the wall to the far right of the walker's head. It swiped at my legs and caught my ankle. I felt myself pitch back, unable to catch myself in time. As I slammed into the floor, the wood cracked and gave way beneath me.

The last thing I saw was the walker's decayed, skeletal hands reaching for my face as I plunged through the floor and into darkness.


	3. Part 3

Light.

The beam of my flashlight was shining right in my face. I blinked in the harsh glare and reached to pick it up. I bit back a scream as pain unlike anything I had ever felt before ripped through my rib cage. That walker…where was it…I couldn't make noise…had to be quiet…oh god I just needed one little scream it hurt so much. The bitter taste of blood filled my mouth and I turned my head, slowly, and spat it out.

My breath came in short, tiny gasps as too deep a pull only brought on more agony. I inched my fingers along the floor towards the flashlight until the cold metal tipped into my hand and I snatched it up. A quick scan around the room showed no signs of the walker.

I tried to sit up but at the slightest tension in my midsection, a fresh wave of searing pain washed over me. Slowly, I brought my free hand up and let my fingers wander over my torso, exploring for injuries. I froze. Something stiff and rough and about six inches wide was protruding from my right side.

Oh dear god I'd been impaled.

I squeezed my eyes shut. The one thing I wanted to do was panic and I couldn't. Panic would only cause more harm.

Distantly, I heard a muffled voice followed by another, calling my name. I let out a small sob of relief. Rick, Daryl, Shane, they would come for me.

"I'm here," I rasped out. I tried to make my voice louder but the effort was too much so I just kept repeating myself over and over in a bare whisper. "I'm here, I'm here, I'm here…."

Off to my right, a flashlight beam darted back and forth then fell on my face.

"I got her!" Rick called over his shoulder as he scrambled to get through the debris. His hands hovered over me for a second. "Oh god no…" he whispered. "No no no no."

He snapped out of the shock in a heartbeat. He took my flashlight and wrapped both of his hands around mine.

"Can't…breathe…" I wheezed. Each word took concentration and energy that I didn't have.

Rick slid his hand along my jaw and gently tipped my face to look at him. "Okay, sweetheart, just hold on. Hold on, we'll get you out of here."

Daryl and Shane stumbled in then stopped, stunned for a moment. Rick, without letting go of my hand, turned to them.

"She's been impaled on a splinter," he said. "That noise probably attracted more walkers. Keep an eye out." He turned his attention back to me. "Sweetheart, I'm going to see if I can get it out, okay?"

I gave a careful nod. Tentatively, he pulled the bloody fabric of my t-shirt away from the wound. He placed one hand, warm and gentle, flat against my side and his thumb applied the slightest pressure to the tender, ruptured skin around the splinter. My whole body jerked in pain and despite my best efforts not to scream, a small cry escaped my lips. My fingernails dug deep into the corded muscles of his forearms as I fought to stay conscious.

"Sorry, I'm sorry…" he whispered. He glanced over his shoulder at Daryl and Shane. "She's stuck on part of a beam of some kind. It's too heavy to move. We'll have to pull her off of it."

"She'll bleed out before we get her back to the farm," Shane pointed out.

"Stuff the wound," Daryl said as he moved in next to Rick. "It'll slow the bleeding. Be difficult gettin' back through all those walkers though with the scent of fresh blood."

"The noise will bring them around soon enough," Shane said.

"We've got to try," Rick said. "I'm not leaving her here."

I coughed then gasped as more pain shot through my body. Hazily, I realized the blood was going to choke me as I lay here, unable to sit up, unable to clear my throat.

Rick tucked his hand under my head for support. "She's coughing up blood, we have to move fast."

"Looks like that splinter didn't hit anything serious," Daryl said. "But the fall could have broken a rib, punctured a lung."

Rick swore under his breath and tightened his grip on my hand. "Daryl, take her shoulders. Shane, you've got her feet."

I felt Daryl's hands slide under my shoulders. "You're gonna be okay," he whispered.

Shane clambered over the broken bits of wood and glass and dust. As he picked up my legs, I gritted my teeth at the motion and fought off a wave of unconsciousness. Rick moved in closer and wrapped his arms under my midsection. I twisted my fingers into the fabric of his shirt to brace myself.

"Look at me," he said so softly that I wasn't sure I had heard him. When I glanced up, he held my gaze for a few moments of silence. "Are you ready?"

"Do…it quick," I replied, my voice hoarse with pain.

He nodded. "Just stay focused on me. On three. One…"

In one smooth motion, Rick, Daryl and Shane lifted me straight up and I couldn't keep back the scream that tore from my throat. Darkness threatened to swallow me, take me down and never let me back up but I forced myself to focus, focus on my surroundings, on Rick's voice.

"Easy, easy," Rick said. They lowered me down and I was shifted around until I was almost in a sitting position. Leaning against the welcome comfort of Rick's chest, I fought for each wheezing, rattling breath. Daryl knelt on the other side of me, his face grim with concern and determination. I knew how much it hurt him when Sophia died. He wasn't going to give up on me without a fight. I felt Rick's arm supporting me firmly against my back, his other arm tucked under my knees as Daryl set to stuffing the wound with some sort of soft cloth. I bit my lip but a little whimper escaped anyway.

"Sorry babe," he said. "Tryin' to make it as painless as possible, I promise." He glanced up at Rick. "You got her?"

"Yeah," Rick said. "We should get going. You lead. Shane…"

"Got it, I'll bring up the rear," he said.

"No," I tried to protest. "I can…I can walk."

"Not gonna happen, sweetheart," Rick said as he picked me up and carried me out of the house and into the woods.

Rick kept up a constant, quiet stream of soothing words. I drifted in and out of consciousness, refusing to be taken under completely. I felt as if I was living in a haze, a fog of nothing but pain. Distantly, I heard the scuffle of walkers, the thwack of Daryl's crossbow or the sickening squish of a knife being jabbed into a brain.

At one point, Rick stopped and I felt his body grow rigid with tension. I was too weak to raise my head so I just stayed there, tucked in against his neck and shoulder, listening.

"Four on your right, Shane," Rick said.

"Got more comin' in behind us," Daryl said.

"Damn it," Rick growled.

"Rick…" I whispered.

He crouched down, balancing me on his knees and slid his hand along my jaw, tilting my head up to look me in the eyes. "What? What's wrong? Talk to me, stay awake."

"Leave…leave me…and go," I said between tight, gasping breaths. I couldn't believe it. This would be the day it all ended simply because I didn't take the shot when I should have.

"No, no, no," he replied. "Don't give me any of that save yourself crap. I'm not havin' it. I'm gonna get you outta here."

"So…damn stubborn," I shot back.

"Yeah well, I guess we taught each other a thing or two," he said. I could hear the slight smile in his voice despite the tense situation we were in.

Daryl and Shane continued to call to each other, spotting walkers, taking them down. Each muffled thump called to mind the image of Daryl or Shane dying for me, taking the fall for me. I had long since abandoned prayer in this hellish world; it didn't seem to do much good. But I did hold out hope, stupid as it may be. I had held out hope for the little girl's mother and here I was bleeding to death in the middle of the dark woods. I hoped Daryl and Shane and Rick wouldn't die because of me. I was supposed to watch their backs. I was supposed to hold my own. The last thing I ever wanted was to take them down with me. I ached to apologize, over and over, for being so stupid, for not taking the shot when I should have, for getting them into this mess…

Rick quickened his pace as best he could. I knew he had to be exhausted, carrying my near dead weight for three miles straight. The trees began to thin then fell away completely. With the last bit of energy I had, I turned my head to see Herschel's farm come into view then I let go and slipped into the bliss of unconsciousness.

When I woke, I was surrounded by the sturdy, white walls of Herschel's house, and wrapped up snugly in soft cotton sheets. The woods seemed like nothing but a bad dream, already growing fuzzy in my memory. Movement off to my right caught my attention. Rick leaned forward in his chair, rubbing his eyes. His shirt was still stained with my blood.

"Hey," he said with a gentle smile.

"Please tell me you got some sleep."

"A little," he replied.

"That means no," I sighed. "What about the girl? Is she okay?"

Rick's smile slowly faded.

"No," I said. "No she was fine when we left."

"Hypothermia set in," he said. "Herschel did everything he could but she was too malnourished. She didn't have enough energy to fight back."

"I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault."

"It's not yours either."

He passed a hand over his face and shook his head. "What about you? How are you feeling? Herschel said no vital organs were injured. About an inch higher and your lungs would have been punctured. You cut it close."

I shot him a stern look but he just stared back at me, innocent. I knew he was changing the subject and that he still blamed himself. He always blamed himself. For now, I decided to let it pass. A more serious talk was in order when my head wasn't so fuzzy from painkillers.

"If I don't breathe," I said, "it doesn't hurt too much. What happened to "on the count of three" by the way?" I demanded.

Rick ducked his head to hide the grin that spread across his face. When he glanced up, he was barely composed but I didn't care. It was good to see him smiling again. "Your body needed to be as relaxed as possible. If we waited to three, you would have tensed up since you knew more pain was coming. But I'm going to take that as a sign that you're feeling better."

I raised my hand to touch his rough, stubbly cheek. "Thank you," I said. I hated how inadequate the words felt, floating there in that big, silent room after all he had done. He placed his hand over mine and pressed a kiss into my palm. We stayed like that for a while. Nothing more needed to be said. We had come out of another crazy ordeal, bloodied, bruised, but still fighting, still alive.

**Hope you enjoyed it! Thoughts and comments are always welcome!**


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